


Coexistence

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, F/F, Minor Character Death, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-26 07:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: 'It was rare that the people listed in the papers were pure-blood. Even ‘blood-traitors’ were seen as pretty safe if they were one of the so-called ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’. Ginny thought that the whole thing was ridiculous, but Voldemort and his followers didn’t seem willing to spill such ‘sacred’ blood. This supposed safety was no doubt the main reason for the surprise in Hermione’s voice when she responded."Robert Parkinson and wife Gertie were found dead in their home late last night. Reporters on the scene confirm that the dark mark was seen above the family home, though there has been no official word from the Ministry.”//Set at the beginning of HBP, Ginny is forced to spend significantly more time with Pansy Parkinson when the latter girl's parents are killed.





	1. Chapter 1

By this point in the summer, Ginny had very much settled into a routine. Harry had arrived with Dumbledore a few days prior, and Fleur and Hermione were both also staying in the Burrow, but given that Fred and George were now staying in the flat above their shop, this only meant that the Burrow maintained its usual state of crowdedness. Ginny didn’t remember a time that the Burrow wasn’t crowded, so that didn’t bother her very much. Fleur might not be very high on Ginny’s list of favourite people, but having Harry and Hermione around was a welcome change. They’d usually doss around for most of the morning, gossiping and attempting a game of quidditch (though Hermione wasn’t what Ginny would describe as tough competition), and then after being coaxed into some chores by Ginny’s mother they’d retire to resume their gossip, or Ginny would leave her brother and his friends to write to her own. She always looked forward to Luna’s letters in the post, and Dean Thomas had written to her more than a few times in the weeks since they’d finished school.

On one such morning, the youngest Weasley slouched across the kitchen table, reading about Luna’s latest day-trip with her father, Xenophilias Lovegood. Apparently, they’d sighted a very rare creature indeed, and Ginny would have to remind Luna to show her the photographs her father had taken once they returned to school. The soft smile that this brought to her face faded at Hermione’s sharp intake of breath. This didn’t go unnoticed by Ron or Harry either, who were both now looking between Hermione and the newspaper she was holding. Ron was the first to speak, attempting a certain level of casual that none of them quite believed.

“Anybody we know?” Had become the automatic reaction to any such reaction to the news these days. Now that everybody knew Voldemort was back, the bad news seemed constant, and Ginny felt guilt at the small amount of relief whenever somebody they didn’t know was attacked or killed. It might not be somebody they knew, but somebody had still died. And given the circumstances, they were usually somebody on the ‘right side’, as Harry would so often put it. It was also rare that the people listed in the papers were pure-blood. Even ‘blood-traitors’ were seen as pretty safe if they were one of the so-called ‘Sacred Twenty-Eight’. Ginny thought that the whole thing was ridiculous, but Voldemort and his followers didn’t seem willing to spill such ‘sacred’ blood.

This supposed safety was no doubt the main reason for the surprise in Hermione’s voice when she responded. Her brow was knitted and she took a few moments, only eventually speaking once she looked up and saw the clear impatience of Harry and the Weasley siblings. When she did speak, she read aloud from the page, voice soft but clear.

“ _Robert Parkinson and wife Gertie were found dead in their home late last night. Reporters on the scene confirm that the dark mark was seen above the family home, though there has been no official word from the Ministry_.” The girl paused, looking up at her friends, who now shared her expression before adding lamely, “ _More to follow_.” The two boys both reached for the paper at the same time, eventually compromising and sitting with it between the two of them.

“That’s all it says?” Ron asked, with a certain level of disbelief. He turned the page of the paper, as though more would appear if he willed it to.

“Parkinson?” Harry looked between Ginny and her brother, the question posed carefully. Ron and Ginny knew far more about the various wizarding families than Harry did, and Ginny thought for a moment before shrugging.

“I don’t know any others.” She answered, now looking to her brother for confirmation. There were certain pure-blood families, like the Blacks, who made a habit of having many children and making themselves known as large, ‘pure’ wizarding families. Others tended to keep smaller, having one or two children to maintain the line, but nothing which could be seen as in excess. The Malfoys were one such family, and so too were the Parkinsons.

“What about Pansy?” Harry looked back to the paper as Ron had, as though Hermione had failed to read out some important details which would answer their questions. None of them would particularly say that they liked Pansy. Quite the opposite. But they still probably wouldn’t wish death upon her, especially knowing what the Death Eaters were capable of.

“Forget Pansy,” Ron started, which earned him a stern, if slightly exasperated look from Hermione, “Why would the Death Eaters start doing in pure-blooded Slytherins?” From that, theories began to circulate the table. Hermione sensibly pointed out that maybe one of the Parkinsons had done something to offend Voldemort, earning their fate. Though none of them could argue with this, each had their own suggestions for how the late Parkinsons might have offended Voldemort. It seemed strange, given how close Pansy was to Draco Malfoy, and knowing that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, and had been at the Ministry with them only a month or so earlier.

Around lunch time, Molly Weasley bundled into the kitchen with a load of laundry and her clock settled haphazardly on top of the pile. Overhearing the conversation, which had now moved on to Harry asking Dumbledore about the Parkinsons, and what connection it might have to Malfoy’s shifty behaviour (which was at the moment, Harry’s favourite thing to obsess over), Mrs. Weasley gasped and raised a hand to her chest.

“Oh, I meant to tell you earlier, Ginny dear. I want you to make sure that your room is nice and tidy, Pansy will be arriving some time tonight, and you’ll have to have her in your room.” Ron, Harry and Hermione, as well as Bill who had since joined them, shared a look at this. Ginny missed this look, too busy gawping at her mother.

“Pansy Parkinson? Here? In my room?” If anybody had thought that Ginny might be pleased by this prospect, the tone of her voice alone would tell them all that they needed to know. Her hands lay flat on the table, and she was ready to argue the point when her mother returned a similarly determined look and a finger pointed towards her daughter.

“Now, you listen. Luckily, the poor girl was staying with a friend when they attacked. But Dumbledore collected her this morning with the bad news, and _he_ has said that he thinks it best she stay here for the remainder of the summer. Are you going to argue with Dumbledore?” Ginny wanted to argue very much with Dumbledore, and with several points her mother had just made. ‘Poor girl’ was not how Ginny would describe Pansy Parkinson, nor was she aware that the older girl actually had any friends. But instead, she settled for sulking.

According to Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore had thought it sensible to place Pansy in the Burrow not only because it was the last place anybody would expect her to be, but also because it would require the Order no extra protection, since the Burrow was firmly protected whilst Harry was staying anyway. Later, she attempted to question Parkinson’s trustworthiness, pointing out that she’d probably tell Draco where she was, and lead the Death Eaters right to them. But whatever argument Ginny had for the girl to stay elsewhere, Mr and Mrs Weasley seemed to find an equally suitable counter-argument.

Reluctantly, Ginny made space for the other girl in her bedroom, and made sure to hide anything that Pansy might find to be of any interest. She knew with certainty that Pansy would judge and complain about their home, and about Ginny’s room, and made precautions to keep this to a minimum. She had to share a room with her, but there was no reason she had to listen to Parkinson’s whining for the rest of summer.


	2. Chapter 2

Since the time that she’d found out about her parents’ death, Pansy had barely spoken to anybody. Professor Dumbledore had advised her not to speak to Draco, or to most other Slytherins she would generally converse with. Which turned out to be easier than Pansy could have imagined, given that none of them _attempted_ to contact her. She didn't hold this against them though, as she doubted she'd be in any rush to write to them if their positions were reversed.

The one person she had spoken to at length was Severus Snape, whom Professor Dumbledore had set up a curious meeting with. He asked her a lot of questions. She didn’t feel much like answering, but he didn’t seem to care much about what she wanted. Snape asked her about her family, and about their connections to the Dark Lord, and what she knew. When she told him that she knew very little other than what Draco had told him, he seemed annoyed. Though she was unsure of what the right answers to his questions were, she knew that she had given him the wrong ones. 

After her visit from Professor Snape, Dumbledore had taken Pansy to her home, where she collected a few essential belongings. Valuables, treasured items and clothes. The headteacher had asked her to be hasty, and pointed out that she would be staying with Ginny Weasley, who would probably have clothes which would fit her, but Pansy was not in the mood to even entertain that option. Boys might have thought of Ginny Weasley as pretty, but there was no way Pansy intended to share clothes with her. As well as clothes, she packed a few family photos and a necklace which had been passed down her family for generations.

Though she hadn't spoken much since hearing the news, one thing Pansy had done a lot of was crying. Professor Dumbledore had given her a conforting pat to the knee at first, and simply seemed not to notice after that. Which was a little uncomfortable and slightly rude, but Pansy thought it was much better than Professor Snape, who seemed very put out by Pansy’s display of emotion. Even Molly Weasley seemed eager to shepherd the girl, treating her more like a package she’d received than the helpless child Pansy was sure she’d be seen as if she’d worn a Gryffindor tie. 

Although Mrs. Weasley kept Pansy at arms’ length, her maternal nature still shone through, sitting the girl down with a bowl of soup the moment she’d walked through the door. Pansy didn’t bother to listen in to the conversation between Professor Dumbledore and the old woman she’d now be staying with; it didn’t interest her at the time. Instead, she looked around the ‘room’. None of the Weasley children could be seen or heard. Maybe Pansy would be lucky and they’d spend all of their time away, or perhaps more likely, they were all avoiding her presence. Which suited her fine. She didn’t want to stay with the Weasleys, and she didn’t want to eat this ‘soup’. She wanted to go home and for all of this to have been a mistake, or a horrid nightmare. 

After her ‘soup’, Mrs. Weasley encouraged Pansy to take a nap. Ginny would show her to ‘their’ room later, but for now, the couch would do. Sleep didn’t come easily to her, but she supposed she must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she woke, Mrs. Weasley had been joined with two women Pansy didn’t immediately recognise. The first was very average looking, with mousy hair and untidy clothes. Pansy thought she might’ve been unconventionally pretty, but this potential was definitely skewed next to the beauty of the second woman. She couldn’t have been a Weasley, because she had long, silky blonde hair and spoke with a deep French accent. The accent is what identified the girl to Pansy, though she had no idea why Fleur Delacour would be staying with Ron Weasley’s family. Perhaps this was just where Dumbledore dumped all of the people he was under obligation to protect. After all, didn’t Harry Potter stay with the Weasleys during the holidays?

Mrs. Weasley and the average woman Pansy didn’t recognise were speaking in hushed voices, murmuring things about ‘Hogwarts’ and ‘security’, though Pansy was more interested in Fleur’s interruptions. She spoke of pretty dresses, and hairstyles, and Mrs. Weasley seemed entirely uninterested. Well, she was probably just jealous, Pansy thought. When the three women noticed that Pansy had stirred, the conversation seemed to be over. Ron’s mother suddenly remembered some chore, calling Ginny and Hermione (apparently the whole of Gryffindor stayed in this hut during the summer) to help her. The average woman dismissed herself awkwardly, and left. Meanwhile, Fleur smiled at Pansy, and moved over to her. Rationally, Pansy knew that she was probably just looking for somebody to listen to her unoriginal thoughts on fashion, yet she was transfixed. 

At the door, Pansy caught a glimpse of Granger and the youngest Weasley. They avoided her gaze, and spoke lowly to each other, heading straight past into the kitchen. 

“Maybe Parkinson and Phlegm will become best friends, and that’ll sort both problems.” Ginny Weasley’s words didn’t seem to reach Fleur, and if they did, she showed no sign of bother. Though, being that beautiful, Pansy knew that she probably didn’t care what the tomboyish red-head thought of her. She’d have been perfectly content to listen to ‘Phlegm’ all evening, but Mrs. Weasley had other plans, bellowing from the other room that Ginny was to show her to ‘their’ room. 

A moment later, Ginny appeared in the doorway again, rolling her eyes and looking blankly at Pansy. “Come on, then.” She didn’t wait for Pansy to follow her before turning, long red hair sweeping behind her. With one last look to Fleur, Pansy sighed and followed the girl with about as much enthusiasm as she’d been invited with. 

Ginny’s room wasn’t what Pansy had expected. It was about as small, and the wallpaper looked to be in a disagreement with the walls, but apart from that it didn’t look too dissimilar to Pansy’s own room. Quidditch posters hung from the walls, and letters were scattered across the girl’s bed. Another bed sat against the wall opposite, which Ginny pointed to lazily before sitting down and pulling her papers into a pile. It didn’t appear as though she was going to talk to Pansy, and Pansy didn’t take her invitation to sit, staying where she stood. 

“Why is Fleur Delacour staying here?” Silence was something Pansy couldn’t abide. It was one of the only things that annoyed her about Draco. He was perfectly content to sit in silence and ignore Pansy’s questions, of which she had many. And if she was forced to share a room with Ginny Weasley of all people, she’d have to find a topic of conversation that wasn’t her dead parents, quidditch or Harry Potter. She got enough of the latter two with Draco.

“She’s getting married to my brother, Bill.” Ginny did not look up from her papers, which were already in a perfectly neat pile, but which provided the younger girl a reason not to look at Pansy. 

“Oh.” She moved to the other bed now, laying down and staring at the ceiling. “She’s pretty.” Too pretty to be marrying a Weasley, Pansy thought. Ginny was pretty, but she doubted that any of her brothers looked much better than Ron did. 

“If you’re into _that_ , I suppose.” Pansy could hear the smirk before she saw it, and Ginny seemed further amused at Pansy’s scandalised expression. 

“Well, Millicent Bulstrode said that she’s part Veela. That’s all it is.” Pansy didn’t expect a response, and she didn’t get one. Which was fine by her. It was probably lucky she’d be staying with all of these people who didn’t like her. She wasn’t going to embarrass herself by crying in front of Ginny Weasley of all people, and she doubted very much that Ginny was very interested in asking about her parents or how she was anyway. Which was also fine by her. 


	3. Chapter 3

Often when Ginny would go out to her father’s shed, there would be spiders dangling from the corners of the room. It was dusty, and most people didn’t spend very much time in there, so nobody cared about these spiders. Molly especially, did not go into Arthur’s she’d very often, which meant that the spiders were safe. If Ginny spent too long in the shed, for instance when Great Aunt Muriel came to stay, she became acutely attached to the spiders. She wouldn’t go as far as saying that she _liked_ them, but her eyes would find them often and she’d spend a long time looking. Really, it was just a curiosity when there was little else to look at. This was how Ginny felt about Pansy.

Since the girl had arrived at the Burrow, she seemed to fluctuate between crying and scowling. While she was mostly polite with Molly, and fawned over Fleur as much as Ron and Harry did, to everybody else she was hostile at best. The longest conversation she had had came courtesy of Harry, who seemed to decide she could be a valuable source of information.

“Anything you can tell us about Voldemort will be helpful. Something with your family, or anything Malfoy might have mentioned.” This was Potter’s fifth attempt, at least. Pansy wasn’t stupid. She knew that Dumbledore had probably only escorted her to the Burrow in hopes that she would provide them with information. That was why she was interrogated by Professor Snape before she’d even reached the Weasleys’ home. 

“I already told you,” She shot Harry a look, thinking it quite insensitive of him to keep bringing up her late parents when he’d made a whole life out of crying about _his_ dead parents. “They asked my father to join in the beginning. He said no, and it wasn’t as big a thing then. That’s all I know.” 

“And Malfoy hasn’t said anything?” Pansy had been told a couple of times that she was obsessed with Draco Malfoy, but she was beginning to think that Harry Potter could give her a run for her money. She was honestly getting sick of hearing Malfoy’s name. Even Granger and Weasley seemed bored of this angle, if Hermione’s exasperated ‘ _Harry_ ’ was anything to go by. “I’m just saying! He likes to talk himself up at every opportunity. There’s no way he hasn’t said anything to her.”

“Well, he hasn’t.”

“Maybe not about Voldemort.” He seemed to be thinking about it, rubbing his hand across his chin. “He might’ve said something about his father’s work. Or… Something he was doing over the summer?”

“Give it a rest will you, Harry?” Ginny had been watching Pansy for a while, and hadn’t contributed to the conversation until now, giving him the glare that all of the Weasley boys knew very well to avoid. “She said that’s all she knows.” Pansy had gotten pretty used to them all talking about her as though she weren’t there, but on this occasion, she was hesitantly grateful. She was sure that Ginny didn’t do it for her benefit, but it had shut Harry up all the same.

Ron leaned in to Harry and spoke under his breath, “Don’t worry about Gin, she’s probably just moody because Michael Corner stopped writing.” To which Ginny responded by swatting his head as she flounced out of the room. 

* * *

“Michael Corner. He’s… Ravenclaw, right?” Pansy and Ginny had resumed their previous positions, which had become typical of the nighttime, when it was too late for Ginny to mooch around with Ron and his friends without facing Molly’s wrath. Pansy lay, staring at the ceiling, usually filing her nails or inspecting some loose thread on her skirts, whilst Ginny sat cross-legged on her bed, staring out of the window or reading and writing to her various friends. They rarely talked to one another, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Yes.” Ginny’s tone definitely did not invite conversation, but that had never bothered Pansy before.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Was. Hear he’s with Cho now.” Pansy knew who Cho Chang was. She’d been going out with the dead boy, Cedric, and cried about it a lot. Pansy thought it was a shame that her personality was obviously so bland, because she was vaguely pretty and seemed to have a lot of friends. If she’d been in Slytherin, Pansy could even see them being friends. 

Pansy briefly wondered about her friends in Slytherin. She wasn’t supposed to speak to them, and she was sure things would be bad once they got back to school. And she didn’t even want to think about Voldemort. Before the summer, she’d listen to Draco talk about Him, and wonder what it would be like, when he killed Potter and took over the ministry like Draco said that He would. And if Pansy had been unsure of any of that before, having his cronies kill her parents would definitely do that. So things would be awkward to say the least with Draco and Blaise and the rest of the Slytherins who wanted the same things Draco did. But then, she couldn’t exactly make new friends now. By sixth year, everybody already had friends. What was she to do? Befriend the Gryffindors? Even if she were to entertain that thought, she didn’t know nearly enough gossip to successfully place herself within a group as she had in Slytherin. 

“D’you have a new boyfriend, then?” She was sure that Ginny wouldn’t be single for too long, given how pretty she was, and the fact that she was apparently good at quidditch and spent so much time with Harry Potter. Ginny didn’t answer right away, and when Pansy looked over to her, she looked as though she was unsure whether or not to answer her. 

“Dean Thomas.” When she eventually did answer, Pansy just shrugged. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not even sure I know who he is.” Dean Thomas was in some of Pansy’s classes, so she had a vague idea. He was either the one who set everything on fire, or the one who trailed along after him. Either way, Pansy didn’t really see the appeal, but she supposed it wasn’t too bad to say that Ginny was only a fifth year. When Ginny asked if _she_ had a boyfriend, it was very forced and Pansy assumed it was only because she was a Gryffindor. Anybody in the Slytherin common room would’ve gone back to whatever they were doing and ignore Pansy. 

“Lots of boys want to be my boyfriend. Obviously.” Ginny raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing. “But why settle for just one boy when I can flirt with them all?”

“Malfoy still not interested, then?” She didn’t know whether Weasley was being malicious or if that was a joke, but Pansy made a small ‘hmph’ and folded her arms. Ginny couldn’t help but smile at this. It wasn’t that she _liked_ Pansy, but by now she’d grown used to having her around. The same way she was used to the spiders in Arthur’s shed, or the way she’d roll her eyes fondly whenever Luna mentioned one of her creatures. 

“We’re playing quidditch tomorrow, by the way. Guess we’ll see whether you’re any better than Hermione.”

 

 


End file.
